


Fictitious

by EtherealEnigma



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, god thats a mouthful, idk - Freeform, kinda dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealEnigma/pseuds/EtherealEnigma
Summary: Vers has all she could ever want. On Hala, she had found purpose in her people, love in her Commander and adored hero of the Kree, Yon-Rogg, a home to replace the one she no longer knew. She had been trained to know her enemy, the silent, foreign infiltrators of her home world. It only takes one misstep to reveal that the enemy wasn't attacking her empire at all, it was sleeping soundly in her bed.- Basically it's just Captain Marvel if Yon-Rogg and Vers had been married -
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Nick Fury, Carol Danvers & Talos, Carol Danvers & Yon-Rogg, Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished it thank the lord. I have so many stories bouncing around in my brain, I feel like I'm being pulled in like 8 directions. But that's inspiration for you, you're aimless for months and then suddenly you're up until 3 am all week, bouncing between 5 google docs all in different universes/eras.

_She burns._

_Energy crackles under her cracked fingertips and her head was dizzy with pounding pain. She can feel the thick mud and curdling blood caked in her hair. The ground under her was hard but uncharacteristically hot, as if pure fire had graced the soil. Had she fallen? Did she crash? No, no, she hadn’t crashed, she was shot down. The realization makes her force her eyes open, absolutely screaming at them to open. With the little strength she had, her eyes slit open and flicked around her surroundings rapidly, trying to draw some conclusion of what was going on. The first thing she makes out is the blood pouring out of her nose, smeared on her face. It was cold on her hot skin, almost soothing on her hot skin, but it was blue, blue like a midnight sky, blue like the ocean, why was her blood blue? Her panic is forgotten when she looks out to her crash site. It was dry, sand-like dirt as far as she could see. That must be the grit she felt under her hand and scratching her teeth. But it was the fire, the blue fire, that was the most eye catching, an extensive burst of color on the otherwise bland, dull canvas. Everywhere she looked, fire, fire, fire. It scared her and enticed her all the same, the heat was comforting and painful, the light was gorgeous and terrifying. A heavy crunch sends her eyes over a small hill and it’s something- no, someone- and they’re coming closer, closer, closer towards her. She wants to run, but she can’t, her legs cemented to the ground. She wants to scream, to cry, to not go quietly; something was wrong, something was very, very, very wrong. Who are you? What happened? What did you do? She wants to ask, but her mouth remains tight-lipped. The green being raises a gun, aiming to kill, aiming to kill her, but she’s still desperate to ask who are you? What happened? What did you do? She can see down the barrel of his gun, dark and empty like his piercing eyes but before the shot is even fired, before the trigger is even pulled, all she can think is she’s burning, she’s burning, she’s burn-_

* * *

She gasps awake, her breath coming out in heavy pants. She’s dripping with sweat, her pajamas pasted onto her skin and dragging uncomfortably across her chest and legs. Laying on her side, she grips the green sheets tightly and rapidly blinks the dreams, the nightmares, away and counting her breaths, in and out, in and out; she focuses on these sensations: the coolness, the wetness, the drag.

On edge, she jerks when a hand rubs her quivering shoulder, “Vers?” 

_Shit_ , she mouths to herself and turns to look over her shoulder. She covers his hand with her own, rubbing soothing circles onto his knuckle with her thumb as if she was trying to calm him rather than herself. She whispers, “it’s alright, I’m alright. Just go back to bed.”

Yon rolls her over and even in the pitch blackness of their bedroom, his eyes shine. He combs back her matted hair and can feel the sheen of sweat on her. “You’re soaked,” he comments, the thickness of sleep slowly leaving his voice.

She takes his perfectly arched cheek in her hand. Vers can’t meet his eyes, ashamed of her messy state, and mutters in a small voice, “I’m sorry I woke you. _Again_.”

Yon takes her chin to lift her gaze, assuring “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He pulls the covers up until they’re tucked just underneath her chin. “Dreams again?”

She sighs and nods before quirking an eyebrow, “wanna fight?”

He chuckles, “we still have-” he squints behind her to glance at the clock projection “- _two hours_ before our scheduled gym slot.”

She slips her arms around his neck, “early bird gets the worm?”

Yon looks at her quizzically and she nods that off as another one of her vocabulary quirks. She purrs suggestively, “then what would you have us do instead, Commander?”

He rolls his eyes at the name-dropping of his rank before providing “sleep?

She shakes her head exaggeratedly, “nope, sorry, not an option. What else you got?”

He leans over onto her, leaning his weight on his arm slotted next to her head. “Let’s just talk.”

An amused smile graces her lips as she wraps an arm around his neck, she mocks “ _just talk?_ ”

He moves in closer, his lips brushing hers as he restates, “yes, _just talk_.”

Vers closes the distance between them, a satisfied humph leaving her. She leans into the familiarity of this intimacy and uses it to ground herself: the roughness of his mouth slotted on her own, the musky, crisp scent of the luperberry soap he faithfully used filling her nose, the scratch of his unshaved stubble on the delicate skin of her cheeks that would feel even better in her thighs. Mornings like this weren’t uncommon between them, neither were evenings, even afternoons when permitting. Still, even a year after their binding ceremony, she still felt flustered every time he kissed her. Heat blossoms in her chest and as he bites her lip and she nips back, not one to be beaten. She whines as he breaks away but then basks in the new sensation of his lips, his teeth, on her neck. Thank the Supremor that all Starforce supplied uniforms favored a high-collared neckline. 

“So, tell me about this dream,” he drawls while grazing his canines on the tender column of her throat, “anything new?”

She digs her hands further into his sandy curls, holding him closer still to her. She sighs wantonly, “no.”

He tsks slightly at her curt response, stopping his ministrations even as she whines at his pause to say seriously, “you have to let go of the past.”

Vers kisses the corner of his mouth gently as to draw him back into her web. Taking his hand, she drags it down the curve of her breasts, the flat panes of her stomach, to where all the heat in her met it’s fiery peak, where she aches for him most. “I don't remember my past,” she says diligently, looking into his cloudy eyes, darkening at her challenge.

“But you want to,” he replies, his hand refusing to twitch even as his body betrayed him.

She presses her mouth onto his neck, mumbling between chaste kisses, “I want _you._ ”

He groans at her ministrations, conceding as he catches her mouth, “ _temptress.”_

She smiles against his lips, “you love it.”

He grins back as he moves down her body, “certainly does keep things interesting.”

She chuckles at the statement as she raises and wiggles her hips off the firm mattress, aiding him in rolling down her pants and underwear, “interesting or annoying?”

“I married you, did I not?” he replies as he settles between her bare legs which fall to the side like the arched limbs of a bow.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it though?” he quips back, his rough lips pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs.

The retort she has dies on the tip of her tongue at the onset of his ministrations, instead choosing to hum a pleased sound. Her contentment quickly morphs into annoyance when he only breaths hot air on her, desperate for warmth from friction not breath.

“We’re on the clock commander,” she growls.

His fingers clench into her curves, “no ranks, not here. You know that. In this room, in this bed, you are mine and mine alone.”

She grins when she wins her prize, his possessiveness peaking out. “And what does that make you?”

“Yours, of course.”

She cups his face with a free hand, brushing her thumb on his perfectly arched cheek, “I _do_ like the sound of that.”

He takes the hand away, dragging it to the side, and interlaces their fingers. He leans forward to just murmur the words on her center, creating delicious vibrations on her high-wired skin, “not as much as I do.”

Her body jerks the moment his mouth touches her, hot and wet. Her hand grips his as she withers in their gray sheets, her body reacting in tandem to the scraps of his teeth and movements of his tongue. Her mind goes stark blank, any remnants of the dream escaping her mind. She’s focused on this new coolness, this new wetness, this new drag and Supremor was it intoxicating, this way he could read her like a book and unravel her like a loosely-tied ribbon. In many ways, there was overlap between his persona as a commander and as a lover. The careful eyes he used to assess the battlefield scan over her to register what she likes, what she doesn’t. The strong, rough hands that carried blasters caressed her body in an uncharacteristically gentle manner but still with the same concentrated, specified touch and coiled power under his fingertips. The stealth skills for stalking the enemy are present even here, in such an intimate place, as he searches for that spot that makes her see stars, _entire_ _galaxies_ , and he’s so close to finding, _so close,_ if he just hit a bit higher- _oh_ , a gruttle moan rips from her lips as her back arches almost painfully, _he’s most definitely found it now._ He smiles on her skin, proud and cocky.

“Das’t,” she breathes, tugging his hair to turn his eyes on her. “Aren’t you trying to join me anytime soon?”

“I don’t know,” he says, dragging his teeth on the inner part of her thigh, “I’m happy down here.”

She pulls his hand to drag him from the vigil between her legs, “I’d be happier if you joined me up here.”

He balances himself so his weight is comfortably slotted over her, slotting his mouth to hers, “really?”

She smiles as she presses herself up to graze his lips, “ _really_.”

“Who am I to deny my wife?” he replies cheekily, spreading her legs to accommodate him.

“A Kree with a death wish?” she kids, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“You are right, I am far too smart to make such an ill-advised decision,” he answers distractedly, caressing the smooth, strong plains of her thigh.

As he presses in, the air in her lungs leaves all at once, and she throws her face into the crook of his shoulder, burying herself in his neck. She likes how she can hear his quiet moans this way, proof of her effect on him, how she can feel the pleasant hums that vibrate from him when he sets a particular pace, hear the thurming pulse of his blood, _their blood_ , pulsing through his veins. The hazy lights of the city poured through the cracks of the curtains and illuminated his golden eyes with smokey hues. He might say she’s a tease but at least she’s in good company. He keeps her on her toes, changing and setting the pace, shallow and slow, hard and fast. Her nails press into strong muscles of his back before dragging down. He hisses and grabs her face from the crook of his neck and forces her to look at him. She smiles drunkenly at him.

"Can't take a scratch, _Commander?"_ she purrs, knowing what she would invoke by throwing his title around

He kisses her harshly and abruptly with a particularly rough thrust as penance, a repressed scream on the tip of her tongue.

“Would you like to find out?,” he breaths on her lips, the thrusts getting faster and faster.

She pants, her arms wrapping around his neck to somehow pull him close still. She can't formulate a response, not even a simple breathy yes. Her mind is so fuzzy, language seemed far away. She’s so close, so, so close, that she can’t help but cry out, her voice growing in octaves, each stroke eliciting a new fire in her belly. Her skin is burning, she is burning, absolutely withering away. When he sneaks a hand between their bodies to touch her, she can see herself lighting up the room. Her skin is glowing, fingers fluttering with energy.

He brushes her hair away from her ear but doesn’t still, tenderly, _lovingly_ , whispering, “ _let yourself go_.”

Who is she to deny him? 

With a final cry and cant of her hips, she reaches her peak and golden power shimmers on her skin like the stars she sees exploding behind her eyelids, Yon following close behind her.

Her breath is erratic, but she finds comfort in the fact that his is too. Her hands aimlessly card through his curls to occupy themselves while he peppers kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

“See? Wasn’t that so much better than sleeping?” she sighs, melting into the softness of his touch.

He smiles into her cheek, “debatable.”

She chuckles tiredly, “we could probably get a bit of sleep before-”

The sharp beeping of their clock puts that thought to end and she giggles at the irony, “or maybe not. I’ll handle caffeine shots and you’ll manage breakfast?”

“Deal,” he agrees, accentuating his point with a chaste kiss to her lips. 

* * *

“Come on, it was a _joke_!”

“You blasted me across the gym!” 

“I needed some moving target practice,” she says as she glances at her nails before offering him a coy smirk and a glance from beneath her lashes, “besides, I knew you could handle it.”

“I warned you that if you lost control again, you’d have to commune with the Supreme Intelligence. You put yourself in this position,” he replies sternly, his arms crossed unpleased.

Vers huffs, annoyed that they have to make the trip across town just so she can be scolded like a child. Still, she doesn’t like seeing Yon-Rogg upset, especially with her, so she tries to change the subject. “Has anybody seen what the Supreme Intelligence _really_ looks like?” 

“No one can look upon the Supreme Intelligence in its true form. You know that. Our subconscious chooses the way they appear to us. So it's sacred, it's personal. No Kree divulges it ever,” he chastises, leaning into to speak to her, intent on keeping the conversation private even as they are surrounded on the crowded train. 

“I still can’t believe you can’t tell _me_ ,” she tsks, placing a hand on her chest to accentuate her point.

“Vers-” he warns before she cuts him off.

“I mean, we’re married! We already share everything anyway, what’s so wrong about sharing this too?” she continues, confused at what the big deal was. Why did they have to keep the person they admired most private? Shouldn’t they sing their praises or something?

“Everything, it’s tradition,” he insists, he pinches his nose in frustration.

“I mean if we always followed tradition, we wouldn’t be married now would we? A member of a highly ranked family marrying a rankless Kree like me is near blasphemous,” she smirks, proud of finding a hole in his defense.

His poker face falters slightly and the slightest violet blush dusts his cheeks, “well- that’s - that’s different.”

“Oh yeah? How?” she teases with the lift of her brow, enjoying pushing his buttons.

“Because-”

“Excuse me, are you Commander Yon-Rogg?”a soft, hesitant voice asks.

The two instantly quiet and turn their attention to a frail Kree woman, carrying a heavy basket of goods, her posture hunched.

“Yes,” he says politely with a slight bow of his head, “I am.”

“Oh!” she suddenly says breaking out into a bright smile, “It is an absolute honor Commander! I saw you from my seat and I simply had to tell you how thankful I am for your service.”

He chuckles, “it is my pleasure, truly.”

“Although I may not look it,” she continues with sarcastic humor, “I can remember the time when we had poorer leadership in the Starforce and the Skrull attacks raged rampant, even here in the protected walls of Hala. I couldn’t be happier that my grandchildren can live and travel safely within the empire when I at their age could not.”

She bows her head and crosses her arms to her chest shakily, the Kree gesture of respect. “Thank you.”  
  


“You do not need to thank me though I do greatly appreciate your kind words. It is a duty I find great satisfaction in doing for my people.”

The woman straightens as much as she can with her bad back when she suddenly notices Vers.

“Oh my, forgive me! I did not see that you were previously occupied, my eyes do not work as well as they used to,” she apologies, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes must be particularly bad then, most physical imperfections could be fixed by the magic that was Kree medicine. 

Vers smiles, “oh, don’t worry. He can talk to me whenever he wants, meeting grateful citizens like you is always a pleasure!”

The woman gasps as Vers comes into focus, “you must be his wife then, Vers!”

She laughs lightly, “yes ma’am.”

The woman grabs Vers’ hand and leans in closer, “you both make such a handsome couple! My grandchildren and I watched your ceremony broadcast. My granddaughter couldn’t stop talking about how lovely she thought you looked. She even insisted on wearing Kree roses in her hair for weeks, just like every girl in her class. She will be thrilled to hear I met you!”

“How sweet, though I must admit, it wasn't the most practical of styles.”  
  


“I can imagine, it must have taken hours! If I remember correctly, they announced you are a Starforce trainee?”  
  


Vers nods, her shoulders squaring in pride.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, I know you will do great things when you join duty.”

“I'm happy that I will be able to fight alongside them, I hope that I will be as helpful as the commander.”

“I would expect no different.”

“Do you need help with your groceries? We wouldn’t mind walking with you back to your residence,” Carol asks, noticing the bags had begun to droop throughout the conversation before they reached their current position on the floor.

“Oh no,” she waves off, “I may be old, but I am stronger than I look. Having three sons does that to you.”

Verse chuckles reservedly, “I am sure of it.”

A loud beep resounds in the cabin as the train slows and the woman removes the bags resting on the ground. 

“This is my stop, so I must be going. Again, thank you both for your sacrifices. Enjoy the rest of your day,” she smiles as she turns to shuffle out the door before they shut.

“It’s incredible,” Vers says after a moment quietly, her gaze set on the door the woman exited through.

“What?”  
  


She leans on the window, “how much of an impact Starforce has had on their lives.”

‘That's why we do all of this, despite the dangers and sacrifices, for the good of all Kree.”

“They admire you, you know? You’ve done so much for them.”

“You will too,” he encourages sensing her longing.

“When?”

“Eventually.” 

A sigh leaves her as she looks up to the ceiling before turning her eyes back to him. “What is the point of giving me these,” she continues as she raises her fist, “if you don't want me to use them?”

“You're going to use them,” he maintains, glancing out the window to estimate how close they were to their stop. “The Supreme Intelligence gave me the responsibility of showing you _how_ to use them.”

Her brow furrows as she whines, “I know how.”

He allows himself to laugh at that, looking to her, “well if that were true, you'd knock me down without them.”

She pouts and feigns offense as she punches him in the shoulder, a smile edging its way onto her lips.

“Control your impulses,” he advises seriously. “Stop using this,” he points to her chest with two fingers before raising them to point at her head, “start using this. I need you to be the best version of yourself.”

She listens to him intently and takes a moment to let his words truly sink in before nodding and allowing her busy gaze to turn out the window, the scene of the city moving quickly past them.

* * *

As she approaches the communion platform, her pulse thrums loudly in her ears and drowns out the echoing noises of her steps in the empty, stone room. She thinks to her training and tries to put herself into a meditative state: deep inhales, long exhales, empty mind, empty heart. Still, her nerves cause her mind to race. Who would the Supreme Intelligence greet her as? Someone from her past? Yon-Rogg? She’s not sure what she prefers. Someone she knew so intimately or someone she did not know at all, what would be less awkward? As she comes to the disc, she takes a tentative step onto it and she takes a relaxing exhale, then another step so her feet are square on the platform. She feels the tendril-like wires crawl up her fingers, allowing her eyelids to flutter shut in tandem with her next breath.

Her eyes snap open and a blurry figure gradually comes into focus. An older woman with silver hair and piercing green eyes greets her, but still, no name musters in her mind to go with the face. Someone from her past then. She frowns slightly at the reminder of the unknown.

“Vers,” they say warmly, an edge of sterness to its welcome.

She gives a curt nod, “Intelligence.”

They look her up and down, assessing her, “the commander insists that you're fit to serve.”

Vers eyes light up, the prospect of serving her nation and seeing real, active combat thrilling. 

“I am,” she insists, keeping her excitement at bay by wringing her hands behind her, praying that the SI’ all seeing eye couldn’t see the motion.

“You struggle with your emotions, with your past which fuels them.”

With a flourish of their hand, images of planets swirl around her. She feels the internal struggle that the Intelligence criticized her for. Did one of those planets hold the key to her past, she wondered. Was the family she no longer knew out there looking for her, living their lives out in some galaxy? Or were they victims themselves?

She shakes off the conflict, refusing to be tempted. She focuses her eyes on the Intelligence and away from the endless number of planets displayed to her.

“You are just one victim of the Skrull expansion that has threatened our civilization for centuries. Imposters who silently infiltrate then take over our planets.”

The image zooms onto a planet before revealing a Skrull wielding a gun just like the one from her dream, a vicious sneer on its face. She shivers at the sight.

They continue, “horrors which you remember and so much which you do not.”

She looks at her feet on the pristine white group, a sense of vulnerability leaking into her posture as her shoulders slump. “It's all... blank. My life. You're supposed to take the form of who I most admire but I don't even remember who this person was to me.”

The Supreme Intelligence considers her words before adding, “perhaps this is a mercy, sparing you from a deeper pain. Freeing you to do what all Kree must.”

The images merge again before showing her several images: laughing and sharing an ale with Att-lass and Bron-Char, the woman from the train praising them, Yon-Rogg greeting her at the end of the aisle on their wedding day.

“Put your people's needs before your own. We've given you a great gift, a chance to fight for the good of all Kree, _for your family.”_

Her heart swells at the late addition. The Intelligence was right, focusing on her past would get her nowhere. She didn’t need to figure out who she used to be or the fate of her long ago family. What mattered was who she was now, the friends she made on Hala, the family she had found in Yon-Rogg: her husband, the only person she truly ever needed. 

Vers’ chip begins to glow and heat up on her neck in tandem with her hands, determination manifesting itself in her flaring power. 

She holds her gaze firm with the Intelligence even as she wants to quiver, declaring, “I want to serve.”

“Then master yourself; what was given can be taken away.”

She forces her brain to quiet, relaxing her fisted hands and easing the power in her veins, allowing pure exhilaration to replace it. 

“I won't let you down.”

“We'll know soon enough. You have a mission. Serve well and with honor.”

When she blinks next and her eyes reopen, she’s back in the gray stone room, the tendrils slinking away. She breaks into a confident smirk.

_She was fit for duty._

* * *

The grin plastered on Vers face hadn’t faltered since she stepped off the communion platform. After six years of dedicated training and low-level reconnaissance missions, blood, sweat, and tears, she was finally, _finally_ going to see real active duty! She probably looked like a maniac on the tube, a spring in her step and cheer oozing from her pores, not entirely Kree like. Not that she cared, if they had worked their way from nothing, no house-title, no clan, no assets, no rank, to being a member of the most coveted military program in the entire empire, they’d be happy too! She had added the extra route of going to downtown Hala after her communion to get some of her favorite Kree-fusion pastries. A small luxury she had gladly handed units over for. She had probably spent too much on the treats, evident by her balancing two boxes in one hand and a bag of other groceries in the other. She smiles a bit extra as she pulls out a plate to arrange the desserts, stealing a jelly filled biscuit as she opens the boxes. 

She turns her head over her shoulder as she hears the door swish open, “you’re home early.”

“I wanted to ensure that we’d be on time for dinner tonight, you know how my mother is about punctualness.” 

She snides at the comment, “more than anyone, it’s me you're talking to remember?”

He moves beside her and sets his bags on the countertop, grabbing a pastry for himself, “I see you stopped by Kû’vãrs, what’s the occasion?”

“Oh nothing, I was just in the neighborhood,” she says slyly, the smirk on her face evident even as she continues on her task of arranging the food. 

“The neighborhood that’s three stations past our stop?” he asks incredulously, leaning against the countertop. 

“Got off at the wrong stop, I guess,” she fibs, keeping herself mum by picking out another pastry. 

“Well,” he sighs sarcastically, “I guess the same goes for me.” He pulls out a bottle of expensive Kyrolorian Champagne only available at a small shop on the south side. She understands immediately.

“You knew?!” she says with her mouth still full but a wide smile on her face, slapping his shoulder playfully.

“I was one of the people who had to sign off!” Yon laughs, passing the bottle to her as he goes to grab a set of glasses from the cabinet.

“Well duh,” Vers says as she works the cork off, “but how’d you know it’d be _today_?”

“I had a feeling,” he smiles as she pops the cork. She fills their glasses in her typical fashion, heavy-handily and loosely. She settles herself in front of him and passes him a glass. 

“Aren’t you going to say it?” she asks on her tiptoes so they can be face-to-face.

“Say what?”

She slips her free arm around his shoulder, “I don’t maybe, ‘congratulations, Vers?”

He kisses her briefly, adding sincerely “congratulations, Vers. I knew you could do it.”

She drones, “I had a good teacher.”

He hums in agreement as she takes a step back, holding her glass in front of him for a toast.

“Any wise words, Mr. Starforce?” she snides friskily. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he warns lightly, but a tinge of sternness still seeps through, clinking their glasses. She waves him off. 

“Me? Of course not!” she sips at her wine before adding, “well, maybe just a little.”

* * *

  
  


_“Intelligence,” Yon-Rogg says dutifully._

_“Commander,” they say back, his own face judging him, a predatory glare in its piercing green eyes. They walk around him a few times and it takes him every fiber of his being not wring his hands behind his back. Instead, he turns his chin up higher as the Supreme Intelligence settles in front of him._

_After staring at him blankly for a few moments they ask, “how long has the Terran been under our custody?”_

_He swallows thickly, his least favorite topic during communion, Vers._

_“Six years, your Intelligence.”_

_“Six years,” they nod as if they had not known before even though it knew everything there was to know about anything, “and is she a capable warrior?”_

_He trains his gaze forward, his lips unmoving._

_They grab his chin forcing him to look, “we asked you a question, Commander.”_

_“Yes,” he says, his voice dry, “the most capable I have ever seen.”_

_They let go of him abruptly, “is she?”_

_“Yes, she is.”_

_“Then why does she stay under your training?”_

_“You tasked me with her Starforce training,” he says confusedly, his brow furrowing._

_The AI all but growls as a sharp pain shoots up Yon-Rogg’s spine and his knees shake. “Do you think we do not remember what we tasked you with?”_ _  
  
_

_“No!” he assures worriedly, fixing his trembling hands on his knees “no, forgive me, Supreme Intelligence.”_

_They tsk above him, asking ,"Has she passed all her stations?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Are her powers within her control?”_

_“Well, yes overall.”_

_“Has she come to learn and accept Kree culture?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And has she been thoroughly indoctrinated into our society by marrying you?”_

_He fights a hot, blue blush from rising up his neck, “yes, Supreme Intelligence.”_

_They crouch down to face him, “then we ask again, why does she still remain under your training?”_

_He remains silent, he has no excuse._

_Suddenly, they laugh in his face, “you fear she will get hurt, you care for her.”_

_He snaps his wide-eyes to the AI, “I do not.”_ _  
  
_

_“You do not?” they mock, “do not lie to us.”_

_“I am not, I have no feelings for her,” his head shaking vehemently._

_“Your actions say otherwise,” they snide and suddenly they’re plastered all around him, his actions of betrayal. The evidence of their coupling swirls around him and induces the blush he had tried so hard to suppress: her skin, her moans, his sounds, his pleasure. More damning are the small, fleeting scenes of tenderness that play around him: drawing her a bath after a particularly grueling day of training, cooking her favorite meal after Minn-Erva pushed her just a bit too much, kissing her forehead as he swipes through the holonews in bed with Vers fast asleep._

_“You told me to make her believe, to secure her allegiance,” he maintains weakly._

_“Did we tell you to fuck her like this?” they seethe as they point to the images of last night, “did we tell you love her?”_

_“I do not love her.”_

_They shake their head in disbelief, taunting him with the tilt of their voice,“When you asked to marry her, we fed into your ideas of permanently tethering her to us, that this was a natural development for our plan, humored you even. But now it has become abundantly clear you had more personal reasonings behind your proposal.”_

_He can’t speak, he feels like he can’t even breathe. He couldn’t tell if it was the simulation or his panic. He presses his nails into his palms just to give himself some sensation he knows is real._

_“I just-” he gasps, “I just fear she is not yet prepared for battle. She still loses control. If I had a bit longer to train her-”_

_“Pathetic,” they spit at him, “even now you deny it?”_

_He swallows, the silence an answer that spoke louder than words._

_The uneasy quiet engulfs that clinical white abyss around them and he stares at feet that are not his feet._

_“She will fight the Torfa mission.”_

_Yon-Rogg’s stomach drops immediately. He saw that file pass his desk and it was high-risk, rescue missions always were. Not a mission to start even the strongest recruit like Vers on._

_“No-” he begins immediately before the pain shoots up his spine again but stronger this time, burning and blunt. His breathing quivers._

_“No?” they bellow at him, voice echoing thunder in the endless chasm of white, “you will tell us no?”_

_He maintains his begging, “no, I would never! But please-”_ _  
  
_

_“Please? Please? Or what?” they sneer at him and although it's his own godly reflection, it feels like they stand taller than he ever could._

_“Torfa is on the brink of civil implosion - I am hesitant to even bring along Att-Lass!”_

_“You do not believe in her?” they say offendedly before their face turns stormy, “then why is she here? What use do I have for a woman when I could extract what I want?”_

_He knows what they’re insinuating and remains steadfast in his terror, “please, just not this one. Any mission but this one.”_

_They turn their back at him and contemplate his statements for moments that seem to tick by like hours. They turn to stare at him blankly, asking, “you truly do not want her to participate?”_

_He nods adamantly because he cannot articulate the words, the feeling of relief flooding him. He must look like a small child._

_A devilish smile curves on lips that are sharper than his own, “then beg for it. Beg.”_

_His stomach drops below his feet. He won’t, he can’t, he shouldn’t._

_And yet his knees his the ground with a thud that shakes him to his core and his hands plant themselves in a similar manner, his head bowing in subservience._

_“Please,” he says, voice quivering with something akin to fear, “please, do not send her.”_

_He steadies his gaze on silver shoes, breath shaking as knees crouch into view and a phantom grip takes his chin._

_Its green eyes are menacing and not full of benevolence like he had hoped, “she will fight on Torfa. Beseechment is not a good look on you, commander.”_ _  
  
_

_The pain seeps from the floor and buzzes through him and every fiber of his being before the Supreme Intelligence pushes him and he falls into the abyss._

* * *

He’s startled awake, his stomach adjusting suddenly to the phantom shift of gravity. He steadies his breath and wipes the sweat off his brow as he quietly raises himself onto his arm to peer at Vers. He sighs in relief, she was still asleep. He shouldn’t be surprised, the only thing that could wake her are her own dreams. Besides that, she could sleep through literal earthquakes, which she had done on a recon training mission. Still, he was relieved nonetheless. He didn’t want her to know that even he struggled to separate himself from his emotions, she didn’t need any more ammo to argue with him than she already somehow mustered up.

He downs the half empty glass of water on the bedside table next to him, trying to physically push down the remnants of the dream even as they try to crawl their way up his throat in the form of gasps and pants.

_Dream_. He wishes he could say it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It was a memory. 

He chastises himself even now. He should have seen he was walking into a trap the minute the Supreme Intelligence brought up Vers, when they questioned him relentlessly. In hindsight, he saw what they wanted him to realize. That in the infallible armor he toted, she was his chip, his weak spot. He could deny it all he wanted, but they saw something between them, something dangerous. He refuses to accept it, even now, as he is haunted by the muddled threats laced against her. Yet, he cannot accept it to be true. Vers was important to him, yes, and he found joy in being with her that he could not deny, but he did not love her, he couldn’t. Kree did not love people outside of their species, love was a generous word to use even within Kree relationships. Still, the images the Supreme Intelligence forced him to look at during communion haunt his brain. The tender moments he couldn’t believe he had begun to cherish. He flips onto his other side, pressing his head into the pillow to try and block out the thoughts of her: the melodic sound of her voice, the alluring slope of her lips, the warm honey glow and star-like shimmer of her eyes-

Yon sits up suddenly. He was far too restless to fall back to sleep. Raising the sheets, he quietly gets off from the mattress. 

“Yon?” Vers murmurs suddenly, her voice hoarse with sleep, eyes squinted. “What are you doing?”

“I got a comm from General Arg-Rah,” he lies easily, knowing she’s still in the thick of unconsciousness and won’t even notice his wristlet is on the other side of the room. “I’m just going to check in and make sure everything is alright,” he knows he won’t be falling asleep again that night and plans to just go over some case files over some caffeine shots.

She scowls, though her fierceness seems flawed as a small amount of drool tails down her chin, grumbling out, “tell him to buzz off, making house calls in the middle of the damn night.”

He chuckles, “go back to sleep, it's too early.”

“Will you come back to bed?” 

“We’ll see.”

She hums tiredly with dissatisfaction, snuggling into his pillow, “that’s a no.”

He smiles, grabbing the sheets to cover her. She interlaces their fingers as a last minute ploy to seduce him back to bed, squeezing his hand. 

He brings their clasped hands to his move, kissing her knuckles. “Sleep,” he instructs.

She groans pressing her nose further into his pillow, trying to ignore his absence. 

He pads softly to the corner of the room, his small study. He grabs his holopad off the desk and robe on the back of the chair, slinking it on as he crosses to the door and shuts it closed.

After flicking the lights on, he heads to the kitchen and sets a mug under the machine before clicking a button on it. After a minute, it begins to dispense hot, amber liquid. 

As the strong scent of the caffeine shot fills the room and begins to wake him from the last grips of sleep, he allows his mind to wander

_Her chime-like laugh, her sarcastic drawl, the gentle dips of her spine and hips-_

A loud buzz indicating the machine had completed its task breaks his daydreaming, his damn near enchantment with her.

He shakes his head. _No,_ he did not love her.

He begged for his honor, his position, not her life.

But why did thoughts of her plague his mind every minute of every day?

Why did he buy her favorite, grossly expensive wine, a completely frivolous errand?

Why had he kissed her hand when she wouldn't recall the action in the morning?

Why did his denials of affection to the Supreme Intelligence feel like confessions?

He sighs as he presses his forehead into the cool metal of the kitchen cabinet doors.

_He was a liar._


	2. Latch

“So you’re in?” Att-Lass asks happily, a bright smile on his face and sweat pouring off his skin as he bounces on his feet.

“Yep!” Vers replies popping the p as she leans back to avoid his uppercut.

Bron-Char sits on the sidelines where he judges their match, his hands perched on his knees, “we’ll finally have the whole gang together!”

“You can replace me as the newbie of the squad!” Att-Lass tries to utilize his body weight this time with something akin to a body slam, but he underestimates how fast she is. Vers drops to the ground and rolls before jumping up behind him. “Does that mean she has to clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush?”

“And _why_ would I do _that_?”

“It's a ritual, on the way back from the mission, the newest member is locked in and isn’t let out until they cleaned the entire bathroom, floor to ceiling,” Bron-Char explains before calling, “lighter on your feet Att-Las, your size isn’t going to help you in this situation.”

“Then again, I certainly don’t want to be the one caught hazing the Commander’s wife,” Att-Las teases as he goes to knee her in the abdomen, again failing to land, “d’ast, have you always been this quick?”

She quirks her eyebrow as a bead of sweat drips down her forehead, “have you always been this slow?” She darts back and forth as he tries to grab her, hoping to trip him with his own feet, “and you say that like that means he goes easy on me. I don’t remember _you_ training for three hours _before_ your actual Starforce schedule started.”

She smirks as his right foot catches on his left, using the moment of weakness to punch him in the gut. He lets out a groan and keels over slightly and she spins to face his back. She kicks him in the back of the knee and he leans back. Once he’s about at her height, she gets him in a chokehold.

She squeezes and says, “yield,” beforing demanding more firmly, “ _yield_!”

He pats her arm around his throat in a sign of defeat, gasping, “okay, okay, I yield!”

Her grasp relaxes and she releases him. He bends over and pants to catch his breath, “you win, _again_.”

She smiles proudly and does an about face to Bron-Char.

He scratches the last of his observations on his pad, playfully asking “so are you saying you want to clean the lavatory?”

She squares her hands on her hips, “oh no, you try that on me and you’ll get zapped.”

The men laugh, even if Att-Las’ is a bit labored, as Bron-Char turns the page, “Att-Las, you need-”

“To redistribute my weight and rely on force, not my size,” he sighs breathily and waves off, “I know, I know.” After another moment, he straightens and uses his hands to gesture Vers closer to him, “again.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” she answers confidently, swaggering back over to get in starting formation. 

A loud alarm rips through the air and she stops midstep. They all rise to their feet and look to the light in the corner of the room, beeping purple.

“Looks like you’re being thrown right into it,” Bron-Char says distractedly, heading to grab his sweatshirt on the bench.

“But the mission was scheduled for next week, we didn’t even get the case file!” Att-Las worries, grabbing his gym bag before handing Vers her own duffel bag.

“Circumstances change,” Bron-Char says, “suit-up, we leave in five max.”

They run to the locker room and Vers tosses her sweat rag in the hamper as they head out the door. Att-Las follows suit, leaning to whisper in her ear, “your luck astounds me, my first mission was only a measly clean-up dispatch!”

She laughs as they split to their respective sections. 

* * *

After convening with the rest of the team and walking to the hanger, they board the Hellion in silence. The air was tense and the curiosity palpable.

Att-Lass breaks the silence while he fiddles with his armor, “this can’t be good.”

Korath straps his energy swords on his back in a criss-cross fashion, stating matter of factly, “it must be another Skrull attack.”

Bron-Char checks his armor stats on his wristlet, ensuring all functions were in operation, “whatever it is, it’s big.”

“Has a Skrull ever simmed you?” Minn-Erva asks curiously. 

Korath nods, “once. It was deeply disturbing.”

“Why?” Vers challenges from her place leaning on the wall.

“Because I stared into the face of my mortal enemy and the face staring back was my own.”

Vers face holds a sense of false consideration of his words, “well maybe if you were more attractive then it would be less disturbing?”

Att-Lass stifles his chuckle with his hand while Bron-Char cracks a smile. Korath and Minn-Erva are less amused.

His eyes narrow at her, responding seriously, “you think you’re funny, but I’m not laughing.”

Att-Lass jumps to her defense subtly, “you never laugh.”

“I laugh on the inside. I’m not doing it now.”

Vers sighs exasperatedly at his reply.

Bron-Char tries to lighten up Korath’s bitter mood, explaining the joke, “it’s funny cause objectively speaking, you’re quite handsome.”

Although his face doesn’t budge, Korath’s shoulders relax slightly, “well thank you.”

“Listen up team!” Yon-Rogg calls, immediately scattering the group. As Vers rushes to push herself off the wall and to the holographic, he points at her and warns, “knock it off.” 

She scowls while his back is turned.

In the center of the room, they surround the large holograph map. An image of a dusty, gray planet arises. She racks her brain for which it is? Morag? Contraxia? Torfa? That one sounded right. She can’t believe she actually wished that she had listened to Minn-Erva’s rambling stories of the Kree empire and universal history from her culture lessons. 

Yon-Rogg begins, his eyes scanning the images, “alright, prepare for a search and rescue of our spy, Soh-Larr. The Skrulls have invaded yet another border planet, this time Torfa. Soh-Larr sent a warning signal, which we've intercepted, that his cover's blown. The Skrull General Talos has sent kill units to find him. Should they reach him before we do, the intelligence he has acquired over three years is as good as theirs. The accusers will bomb a Skrull stronghold here in the south. We slip in, we locate Soh-Larr and we get out, leaving them none the wiser. The Torfa populace; we are not to interfere with them nor them with us. Nothing compromises the security of our mission. Proceed with caution. Follow protocol before extracting him.”

She memorizes the face of their target before the holograph dissipates and goes over the details of the mission in her head: _South gets bombed then sneak in, grab Soh-Lar, get out, no interactions, seemed simple enough._

Yon-Rogg can sense her doubting the severity of the mission, deciding to stres it again, “this is a dangerous mission, we must all be ready to join the collective if that is our fate today. For the good of all Kree!”

“For the good of all Kree!” they all repeat.

A robotic voice bellows throughout the ship, “T-minus four hours until dispatch.”

They all dismantle to spend their free time before battle. Minn-Erva instantly takes a left, probably heading to the heavy artillery room. Being the obsessive, expert sniper she was, she’d probably spend her entire four hours in there, scrubbing the bore of her rifle until it showed her own reflection. Korath was similarly particular, going to the gym to swing his energy swords back and forth, evaluating the swing, length, and weight before adjusting its specs, tuning it to perfection. 

“You want to come with us to the mess? I didn’t get to eat before sparring,” Att-Las offers, pointing his thumb behind his shoulder towards the kitchen. 

She shakes her head, “I think I’m just going to rest for awhile. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Suit yourself,” Bron-Char says beside him and smiles michivelously, “more Kyrolarian creams for us then.”

  
  


“Save me some for the trip back?”  
  


“No promises,” Att-Lass calls as they head down the opposite end of the hall.

She smiles to herself as she continues to trek down the hallway. After taking a right, then a quick left, she ends up in the heart of the ship. She goes to the largest door and punches a code into the pad. It slides open and she steps in before swiftly pressing the door closed with a swish.

She presses her center chest star, the upper half of her suit letting out a hiss as it decomrpessurizes. After fiddling with the clasps and undoing a few zippers, she strips the jacket off as well as her chest plate. The lower half was fairly flexible, but you couldn’t really relax with the upper half on. It was stiff and though it was temperature controlled, sweat would collect on her body and make the metal chaffe at her skin. She takes the pieces in her arms and deposits them onto Yon’s desk, knowing he’d hate it if she left them on the floor. It wasn’t uncommon for Vers to use the commander suite. She hadn’t been lying when she said that Yon-Rogg didn’t go easier on her. She knew no one thought that either, even if they did tease her about it when he wasn’t around. Anyone with eyes could see that he pushed her beyond was expected of them, even for Starforce cadets. That being said, she couldn’t deny that he did afford her certain _liberties_ , even before they had started the weird traditions tied to starting a Kree courtship. It was obvious she was his favorite the minute she woke up on Hala. Staying in his room was one of them. She had her own room assignment of course, but her bunk was far too small and placed under the water converter making it unfathomably loud at all hours. His room was separated from the rest of them, nearly three times as large, had a soft, large bed, and was soundproof from inside and the outside which was nice because….. 

She flips herself onto the bed, she didn’t need to be thinking about _that_ right now. 

Her stomach is in knots from excitement and, she can’t believe she’s admitting it, _nerves_ . She would never dare say it to anyone, but she _is_ nervous. It made sense really, it’d probably be unnatural for her not to be nervous. Still, it felt wrong. She had dreamed of this day for six whole years, she should be pressing her face against the glass of windows until she could see the outline of Torfa in the distance. But she _didn’t_ feel that way. She feels anxious, like she needed to pace the room until her feet wore through the metal flooring. 

She feels _scared._

She throws an arm over her eyes to block out the lights in the room. She should have turned off the lights. But who was she kidding? It wasn’t like she’d fall asleep. She could barely do so when she was meant to. She’d probably count the metal tiles on the ceiling, a habit she had taken up to help distract her overthinking mind. 

She sits up abruptly, pushing herself up on her forearms. _No_ , she wouldn’t let her nerves get the better of her, not when she worked so hard to get here. She would savour this moment, the start of what she would ensure would be a long, successful career. She’ll make her people proud today, her team, _herself._

The door slides open and shut, “are you alright?”

She looks to Yon, his eyes obviously concerned as he crosses over to her, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Mhmm,” twisting her body around to sit at the bed’s edge as she scoots closer to him as, “I just thought it’d be best to rest up before the mission, got to be on my game.”

He hums in agreement as she interlaces their finger and he takes their interlocked hands to rest in his lap. Vers rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes falling to half mass. She found comfort in his nearness. Why she found such serenity in feeling his heat, hearing and feeling the pulse of his blood on his neck, she couldn’t explain. The only assumption she had was that it stemmed back to the Kree obsession with blood, the sacredness of it. It was one of the most barbaric traits of a race that found immense pride in making such strides in cutting-edge development. Lovers and partners carried small amounts of each other’s blood in pendants holding a mesh of their house insignias. They had taken it a step further, he had opened his vein to her and allowed what flowed in him to flow in her. Blood bonds like that were ancient in practice, so it was only a hunch since she couldn’t find any modern, proved findings about the relation. It was quite a disapproved practice today, seen as primal and primitive, a step back in evolution. She didn’t care though. Vers liked the idea that she’d always carry a piece of him and Yon of her. No matter where he was, no matter where she was, they’d always be connected.

“Was the Skrulls sending kill units why the mission was pushed up?” she asks quietly, her head still resting beside his. 

  
  


“How did you come to that conclusion?” he sounds surprised, she can almost see the slight snare of his lip, a habit he had when wa taken off-guard.

  
  


She snorts, “Att-Las said you hadn’t published the mission file for the next assignment and it was scheduled for next week. The light was purple: immediate report for dispatch. If it had been an immediate threat and emergency, domestic or off-world, the light would have been pink. Plus, you said every detail from memory until you got to that part and then you read it off your wristlet. It must have been the first time you were reading the update too since I know for a fact that you were coming from a meeting and must have had to rush across town to get here when you did after getting the notification.”

He chuckles tiredly, resting his head on top of hers, “good attention to detail.”

“I try.”

  
  


“Yes, I got the intel on my way here from the division intercepting the Skrulls comms. I didn’t have a chance to read it when I saw the code notification.”

  
  


They fall into another period of silence but she feels his tension, his shoulders are pinched and his thumb rubbing the back of her hand in tight, perfect circles.

  
  


She raises her head to look at his face, his gaze focused on the wall and his brow knitted.

  
  


“What’s wrong?” she asks softly, wide eyes blinking at him. 

  
  


His gold eyes meet her auburn ones, his voice more pleading than demanding, “you need to be careful.”

  
  


“I’m always careful.”

  
  


“Vers, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” she answers, her voice slightly raised. “I might joke around, but you know that I take this seriously. I know what’s demanded and expected of me.”

“This isn’t about you not taking your position seriously,” Yon insists before sighing and running his hand through his tousled hair, “extraction missions are unpredictable, they’re incalculable, variable. There’s no type of mission more dangerous.”

“I know,” she defends, “I know the entire hierarchy of risk and the protocols assigned, I know what to expect.”

“ _But you don’t_ ,” he rebukes, “this is your first assignment. We work our cadets up in terms of risk and we’re starting you at the top.”

  
  


She snaps her hand away from his grasp and cradles it to her chest like he’s burned her, “ _do you not believe in me?_ ”

  
  


He grabs her hand back desperately, “ _I do!_ It’s just I-” he exhales shakily, putting his head in hands as he perchs his arms on his knees. He mutters defeatedly, “ _I worry._ ”

Her heart aches as she rubs his back. She tries to soothe his worries, providing encouragingly, “the Supreme Intelligence obviously found me prepared for the challenge.”

  
  


He swallows thickly and his eyes clench shut at the sentiment. She slips her hand to his cheek, trying to regain his gaze. 

  
  


“Yon,” she whispers, trying to turn his face to no avail. “Yon-Rogg, look at me.”

  
  


He finally relents and turns to look at her, his gaze unsteady and hesitant. She keeps her hand on his cheek before sneaking her other hand to his face as well.

  
  


“We’re going to be fine, _I’m_ going to be fine, okay? The Torfa mission is going to be a raging success, we’re going to get Soh-Lar and all head back to Hala safe and sound.” Her arms wound themselves around his neck, crossing her wrists, adding on suggestively, hoping a joke may lighten his mood, ”maybe celebrate on the way home, just a little?”

  
  


He chuckles half-heartedly, “really Vers? Here?”  
  


She purses her lips teasingly, “like it’d be the first time.”

  
  


She feels him relax under her, his posture becoming less rigid and jaw unlocking. She presses their foreheads together, gently bumping his nose with hers.

“We’ll be back on Hala, before you know it: training at the gym, eating takeout while watching that horrible Xandarian reality show, everything business as usual. ”

His hand slips to the nape of her neck, keeping her close as he whispers hopefully, “spending the day in bed?”

She giggles, leaning in closer still as she smiles, “until duty calls of course.”

With a growl, he presses a kiss just below her jaw at the sensitive junction near her ear, “I pray it never does.”

A gasp leaves her exaggeratedly, “what of your military oaths, Mr. Starforce?”

“The vow I made to you is much more important.”

* * *

Relaxing in the suite had been nice, it had greatly eased her nerves and jitters being with him. Redressing had been a breeze with his help. Although she had been trained to get in her armor in 60 seconds or less on her own, it was a nuisance to do on your own. It was a lot of hair catching on zippers and latches nipping skin. His hands were delicate as they completed his task. His nimble fingers brushed her blonde curls away from the nape of her neck and his warm grip held the chest plate to her torso. He had whispered the warriors prayer as he straightened their binding pendant on her clavicle before he did the final latch near her collarbone, asking the Supremor and their warrior ancestors to watch over her and bring her strength. It had been an intimate exchange rather than a simple prayer; he was not a superior wishing luck upon his subordinate, but a husband pleading for the safety of his wife. Although this type mission was nothing new to him, Vers had insisted on blessing him in the same manner, her brow bone pressed just above his heart where she pressed a chaste kiss. Just as he worried for her, she worried for him, even if it seemed more fruitless. As experienced as he was in comparison to her, he still thrust himself into danger and taunted death. Whatever deity she had to beg for his safe return, she would do gladly. 

  
  


They were the first to make it to the command hangar, about five minutes early and hand-in-hand. It was out of character for him to display such affection while in uniform. Still, he laced their fingers together as they stepped out of their room even with the stiff metal encasing their fingers. She glances at the time clock, she still needs to run her armor specs. She stretches out of his grip, she needs to get to her pod and do her systems check before deploy. She’s held back though, his hand clenches hers even more tightly, a cement-like vice. She glances over her shoulder, her brow furrowed as she looks over him quizzically. His eyes are stern and his jaw tense, shoulders so tight that she could only imagine they’d fall inches if he could relax. Her forehead softens and she squeezes his hand, brushing her thumb over his knuckles as she offers him a fond, comforting smile. He reciprocates, albeit with only a tinge of an upturned lip, and his fingers loosen, allowing her to slip out and head across the hangar. 

Yon watches her walk away, his feet unable to move and his eyes intent on keeping her insight. As she fiddles with her extraction pod, his hand feels uncharacteristically cold and dread washes over him like hard hitting waves. He couldn’t shake a sick feeling nagging at the deepest corner of his brain that this would be the last time he'd hold her hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give a personal aspect as to why Vers wants to join Starforce and we all love stranger-grandmas okay? Also, I 100% believe that Yonvers would have had a royal wedding style ceremony since Yon/Starforce are seen like celebrities/national treasures. You can't change my mind.


End file.
